


Cold Hearts

by epeolatry



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, FrostIron - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-06 23:59:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epeolatry/pseuds/epeolatry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frostiron smutfic - very little plot, just an excuse for some good old bottom!Loki x top!Tony smut</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Hearts

Tony woke with a start, mouth dry and head already aching from the alcohol that had sent him to sleep only a few hours before. He disentangled himself from the bed sheets and sat up, his bare back cold against the headboard of the bed thanks to the sheen of sweat upon him. The glow from his chest lit the room with a pulsing blue half-light, and every shadow seemed to leap out at him as he scrutinised each corner, reassuring himself that he was certainly alone, and the only voices were those that echoed through his dreams.

But although his eyes betrayed no presence in the dim bedroom his skin still prickled and he felt fresh sweat beading on his back and forehead. He strained his ears for the slightest breath of sound and watched the pulse of the blue light grow more rapid as his heartbeat increased.

Then suddenly, with a shock that sent a spasm through his whole body and made him clutch one hand over the hole in his chest in unconscious terror, he heard it again, the voice from his dreams, the voice of his nightmares.

It said nothing, but only laughed harshly as the perspiration coursed down his back in rivulets, his mouth simultaneously seeming to dehydrate further until he was sure that he would not be able to speak if he tried.

Then the words came, flowing into the room like water into a sinking ship, their point of origin masked, seeming to come from both the very walls themselves, but also from Tony’s fevered mind. They were spoken delicately, softly, almost soothingly but for the threat they pronounced.

“Where is your armour now, Man of Iron?”

Suddenly Tony felt his wrists pulled sharply behind him and bound with unseen cording; he uttered a strangled cry of surprise and kicked out, but found himself pinned to the bed and slammed up against the headboard by an invisible weight that pressed down on his legs and his torso, holding him easily in place despite his struggles. He found his voice was gone, though through magic or the dryness of his tongue he couldn’t tell.

Then, like a Cheshire Cat, his assailant slowly materialised before him, beginning with a grin of such evil promise that it seemed to distort the rest of the features that were slowly appearing. It made the face seem pointed and sharp, the eyes dark and predatory, and the long black hair that framed the pale, grinning countenance appeared like a Reaper’s cowl. The glow of the arc reactor lit the white skin with a sickly blue tint, forcibly reminding Tony that the man who had so easily disabled and restrained him was in fact not a man at all, nor a god, but a monster; a frost giant.

“I know you fear me, mortal,” the supernatural being breathed, his soft voice seeming somehow still to echo around the room, “I can smell it leaking from your skin, like a child whose terror trickles down its legs… It’s obscene.” His nostrils flared, drinking in the obscenity.

Voiceless and bound, Tony settled for glaring stonily up at the man astride him, as his grin of darkness became a mirthless laugh that filled the chamber.

“You hate me Stark, I understand this, but you cannot possibly hate me more than you hate yourself. And I know that clandestinely you enjoy my visits, for you are so very fearful of being alone. But where are your friends tonight?”

Loki leaned closer to Tony, pressing their bodies tightly together, causing both warmth and shame to spread through Tony and coil heavily in the pit of his stomach.

“Where is your Pepper Potts?”

Tony had no time to register his anger at Loki probing into his tempestuous relationship, as the god ground his hips down into the inventor’s, the friction making Tony’s mouth open in a silent groan.

With an impatient wave of his lithe, slender fingers Loki released Tony’s tongue and revelled in the little gasp that he elicited with another press of his hips.

“Where is your Hulk?” he continued to goad, now rocking into Tony and feeling the mortal man going hard beneath the bed sheets that separated them.

Tony resisted the urge to quip, ‘In my pants,’ but he couldn’t suppress a smile at his own quick wit, despite the direness of his situation.

“Hmm. I see you find this amusing. Well perhaps you will not be so good humoured when I have you on your knees – as you should be – crying my name and begging me to allow you your release.”

Tony would never have admitted how much those words turned him on, but his body betrayed him and Loki chuckled deeply as the tented sheets around Tony’s groin twitched eagerly.

“It’s a pity you are so willing to accommodate me Stark, as I have different plans for you tonight. You sorely tempt me to simply have my way with you, but no…”

Loki leaned in to kiss Tony, his breath cold as his smooth, pale cheek met rough stubble. The kiss took Tony by surprise as his enemy wasn’t usually so intimate; this was like a kiss with Pepper, soft and sweet, though the tongue that drew itself slowly across his lower lip, begging entry, was cool rather than warm.

Tony allowed it and their tongues entwined, but Loki kept the kiss slow, plying his long fingers through Tony’s sleep-tousled hair as their urgency built. All pretence at defiance was now abandoned by the genius engineer, who had long ago learned that giving in to Loki’s attentions was usually more rewarding that resisting.

Tony groaned into Loki’s mouth as the god scraped short, sharp fingernails down his back, and his hips bucked upwards against the lean frame that somehow held him down so effortlessly.

Loki smiled against his mortal paramour and deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue more forcefully into Tony’s mouth and taking the man’s lower lip in his teeth. Tony eagerly responded, fighting for dominance despite the fact that he was so clearly being subjugated. What had begun so sweetly quickly turned into a power play, teeth and tongues aggressively clashing as Tony refused to give up his natural assertiveness and Loki used his dominant position atop Tony to his full advantage.

But the god won the struggle, as he slipped a lithe hand under the bed sheets and wrapped his slim fingers around Tony’s cock, stroking it firmly and making the inventor pull out of the kiss to groan in a husky voice, “Fuck… Just like that…”

The god complied, stroking Tony faster as the man beneath him closed his dark eyes, groaning softly as the pleasure built inside him. Then suddenly Loki’s firm grip vanished, and Tony’s eyes snapped open in an expression of puzzled disgruntlement. Glittering emerald green orbs stared down at him fixedly.

“Don’t stop,” Tony whimpered, immediately appalled by the note of pleading in his own voice.

“I will stop as I wish,” Loki whispered back, his breath cool on Tony’s flushed face, “As I have already stated, I have more exciting plans for tonight…”

At those words Tony felt the strong bindings around his wrists slacken then disappear entirely, returning the use of his arms (though Loki remained sitting dominantly – and inexplicably heavily - astride him, restricting his movement).

Gingerly, Tony brought his sore hands out in front of him, massaging the light welts in his wrists as Loki watched him warily; the Trickster knew that he was taking a grave risk in freeing a loose cannon like Tony Stark, but perhaps that was what kept drawing him back…

In the same moment Tony realised that he now faced a choice – fight or fuck? – and not long in which to make it. Within seconds the engineer’s base nature won over his (admittedly much weaker) sense of moral duty and he grabbed Loki’s face in both hands, pulling him into a crushing kiss.

In all of their previous dalliances Tony had been prevented from touching the god, but he was making up for it now, running his rough, strong hands over every part of Loki that he could reach. The Trickster’s clothes had been cast off in a wisp of greenish smoke and his lean, pale body was now fully exposed to Tony’s desperate touch. His callused fingers knotted in the long, dark hair that framed Loki’s delicate face, tugging him closer into the bruising kiss that seemed to involve more greed than technique.

“Stark,” Loki pulled away panting, obviously still trying to retain a degree of imperiousness in his voice which was rather undermined by the whimper he emitted as Tony attacked his neck with ferocious love bites, “Stark, listen to me. Tonight… Tonight I want… You to take me.”

Tony bit down more fiercely still on the god’s collarbone, growling as he bruised the delicate skin, “You sure about that Reindeer Games? After what you did to me I ain’t gonna play nice…” He was thinking back to the first time that Loki had appeared uninvited in his bed, bound and gagged him just like tonight, and taken him by force – it had been his most painful orgasm to date, and he intended to repay the favour with interest.

Loki scoffed at the threat, “You are hardly the most adventurous bedfellow I have ever taken, Stark, I doubt that you could inflict upon me any kind of suffering.”

Those words seemed to awaken a savage sort of joy within Tony, who took up the challenge with relish. Loki must have completely released his magical restraints, as the inventor was easily able to shove him off his lap and reverse their positions, slamming the god’s head against the wooden headboard of the bed as he straddled him, his actions half motivated by raw lust, half by desire for revenge.

They were touching skin to skin now, warm on cold, their stiff cocks rubbing heavily together as Tony ground his hips into Loki’s much harder than was entirely necessary. At Loki’s groan of pleasure one of Tony’s hands shot up and clamped around the Asgardian’s throat, his rough fingers stifling any further sounds, his blunt fingernails leaving marks in the thin skin.

“Did I say you were supposed to be enjoying this?” Tony snarled in his lover’s face.

For a moment Loki’s eyes narrowed and blazed with a defiant green fire, but then he seemed to relax into his role – after all, he had cast himself in it – and he shook his regal head meekly.

“You’re goddamn right I didn’t,” growled Tony, before latching his teeth onto Loki’s lower lip and biting down hard enough to draw out a dribble of blood. His fingers clenched harder still around his tormentor’s throat as the god whimpered, and he felt the thrill of power coursing through his body, electrifying each nerve and making his cock throb painfully; this was really something, having the life of a god literally in the palm of his hand, and he momentarily thought back to his first confrontation with Loki, when it had been his own oxygen supply cut off, his own life at an enemy’s mercy…

He released his hold, relishing the red marks he had left behind as Loki caught his breath in a painful rush. Tony looked contemptuously down at the lean figure beneath him, skin bruised, lip beaded with blood, but his pupils engorged with lust and his cock rock hard and eager next to Tony’s. The ripple of power that the genius had felt now became a roar, a need almost as pressing as his throbbing cock, seeming to take a hold of him like a physical entity.

“I am gonna fuck you until you come screaming my name,” muttered Tony as he ran his fingers through the god’s long hair.

“Please,” whispered Loki, all shame forgotten as he gave in entirely to Tony’s control over him, the control that he had craved and calculated for each and every time he had visited the Iron Man’s bedroom.

Tony wrapped a strong hand around Loki’s cock, not stroking or pumping him, just gripping firmly as the god squirmed beneath him, trying to create some friction. Then with painful, teasing slowness he began to run his fist up and down the cool length as Loki whimpered and begged for more. Tony smiled as he spat on the god’s cock, his saliva mingling with the precum already leaking out, the newfound slickness making the trickster moan Tony’s name needfully, “Stark… Please…”

Tony’s wicked smile grew as he abruptly removed his hand from the wanton god, who stared up at him with such pleading in his eyes that Tony felt sure he could have demanded anything of the poor creature and been granted it on the promise of an orgasm.

“You don’t get to come yet, not that easily. You will come when I tell you to come – when I’m balls deep inside you and you are so fucking close that you can feel every cell inside you screaming for release… And even then you’ll have to beg me for it.”

A visible shiver ran through Loki’s lean body at the threat, and Tony could barely suppress the urge to simply take him at once, but he made do with roughly shoving two fingers into the god’s mouth.

Loki began sucking them hungrily, running his tongue all over and in between the two digits, coating them in cool saliva that made Tony wonder how that cold tongue would feel wrapped around his cock… He let out a gasp as the next best thing – Loki’s hand – began performing the exact manoeuvres he had been imagining, that sensuously chilled tongue continuing to mimic the movements over his fingers.

Tony knew that his fingers were already more than fit for purpose, but he allowed Loki to continue sucking on them as the god simultaneously jerked him off; it was as though his nerve endings were becoming confused, the twin pleasurable sensations seeming to intermingle as his overloaded brain began to misfire synapses due to blood redirection and the fucking magic of Loki’s tongue – literal or figurative Tony didn’t know, and couldn’t care less.

It took every skerrick of Tony’s pitiful supply of self-control to extract his fingers from that lashing tongue. In fact the only way he managed to do it at all was by convincing himself that he had a better use for Loki’s talents than finger lubrication. He groaned as he rolled off the lean body, the loss of the cool skin against his own warm body anathema to his current need to touch. Loki however seemed to intuit exactly what was required of him, and without any prompting on Tony’s part he willingly leant over and placed his lips on the head of the engineer’s penis.

Tony moaned in abandon as that cold mouth took him in for the very first time, first his head – a flicker of tongue over his leaking slit making him gasp – then the rest of his shaft slid into the seemingly endless mouth and throat of the god. He couldn’t help but thrust up into that peculiarly stimulating chill, and Loki seemed more than capable of taking whatever he gave.

With a grunt, Tony reached behind the god and swiftly sank one finger as deep as possible into his tight but willing hole, causing Loki to moan with pleasure and sending shivers of pleasure through Tony’s own body as the sound reverberated around his cock. Loki clocked this and continued to hum softly as he sucked rhythmically up and down the thick length.

Tony, panting, light headed with desire, began thrusting his finger in and out of Loki, quickly adding a second, curling his fingers on each in-stroke, probing for the god’s sweet spot; if Loki had been expecting a naïve lover then he would be sorely disappointed. A third finger joined the first two and Tony began enthusiastically scissoring them as Loki increased the speed with which he was sucking, groaning around his mouthful and encouraging Tony’s movements, goading him on, pushing him…

“Okay, stop,” Tony said shakily as Loki began swirling his cold tongue dangerously over his throbbing head, “I’ve got to – unngh…”

But Loki understood again what was required, and he released Tony’s stiffness with a wet pop, the green of his eyes almost lost behind lust-widened pupils. He allowed himself to be pushed roughly face down on the bed, his own unattended cock at least benefiting from Tony’s choice of soft, good quality bed linen. He felt Tony, sweaty and almost shaking with how badly he needed to fuck – what a delicious thought that was! – position his tanned, muscular frame over him, his leaking cock nudging his entrance

“Please Stark,” he hissed in annoyance at Tony’s hesitation, “Just do it!”

Tony didn’t wait to be told twice; he thrust hard into the tight, cool entrance, groaning as he felt Loki’s muscles contracting around him and heard the god’s gasp of intermingled pain and pleasure. He was in as deep as he could go, but he made himself wait a few seconds before slowly pulling out again. His hesitance was more for his own benefit than Loki’s; after all that build up he was dangerously close to coming undone, and the last thing he wanted to do was relinquish his power over a god without fully enjoying it first.

He thrust back in again, one hand fisted tightly in Loki’s long hair as he did so, entranced by the smooth, lean muscles that rippled through the pale body beneath him. He built up some more speed, grunting with each push, feeling a hot, heavy weight coiling in the pit of his stomach, sparks beginning to race up from the base of his spine, his balls tightening until –

“I thought you were a stallion Stark,” Loki grunted tauntingly, “Clearly I was mistaken in my belief that a mortal man could give pleasure to a god.”

Never in all of his life had Tony Stark had his sexual prowess called into question, let alone in the midst of the very act itself! Loki’s taunt was enough to dispel his impending orgasm, and instead of desire he now focussed on anger, pounding relentlessly into the man beneath him until the entire bed was slamming against the wall with each thrust.

Tony’s muscles were rapidly tiring – after all, he was no super soldier, and he certainly wasn’t as young as he used to be - but he was satisfied to hear Loki’s groans and cries, and the exquisite, fragile beauty of the body that writhed beneath him with each savage thrust spurred him on.

“There, right there!” Loki cried out helplessly, his entire body shuddering as Tony slammed into his prostate.

“You gotta ask nicer than that,” Tony growled, each word punctuated with a shallow thrust that purposely avoided the sweet spot that Loki was aching for.

“Please…” Loki whimpered.

“Please what?” Tony snarled, slapping the god’s arse hard with his open palm, making him yelp.

“Please… Please fuck me harder, make me come…”

“Say my name,” Tony commanded, his voice low and threatening as he kept his thrusts just shallow enough to keep Loki on the precipice of ecstasy.

“Stark.”

“Say my name!”

“Tony!”

He obliged the request, pushing in hard thrice more in quick succession before Loki uttered the most tremendous, delicious scream of pleasure that he had ever heard, the god’s face twisting into a grimace of ecstasy. That pained expression, that wild cry, and those cool, tight walls clenching around him drove Tony to the edge seconds later; he came yelling out a string of profanities, thrusting deeply into Loki one more time before collapsing across his pale back, panting hard and covered in sweat, almost unconscious after the intensity of his delayed orgasm and the point of exhaustion that he had driven himself to to achieve it.

They lay like that for a while, with Tony’s cock still buried in Loki and his bed sheets covered in a sticky coating of perspiration and cum. He wondered vaguely if his weight might be hurting the smaller frame beneath him but as Loki was making no move to get away he dismissed the thought.

Eventually Tony rolled off his otherworldly lover, the haze of sleep already half enveloping him. Loki’s cool body remained beside him, the mess that they had created in their passion somehow magically removed from the now crisp, clean sheets. The god’s calm, regular breathing matched the slow pulse of the arc reactor, the blue light from Tony’s chest mingling with the pale grey dawn that was bleeding through the window. But neither man noticed this as they were both fast asleep, insensible to the waking world around them.

 

* * *

 

When Tony awoke many hours later he was predictably alone in his bed, with no sign that the events of the previous night had been anything more than a particularly perverted dream. The day passed like any other, with the usual number of cups of strong coffee, the usual number of improvements made to the suit, the usual fights with Pepper and the countless stiff drinks that followed. When he staggered into his empty bed that night he was too far gone to even register that the freshly laundered sheets somehow still smelled of Loki, nor did he hear the once dreaded voice whisper through the darkness, “You need not fear being alone…” as a breeze from nowhere brushed the hair from his sleeping face.


End file.
